


Blind Man's Bluff

by Cinaed



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sg_rarepairings, First Kiss, Games, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-13
Updated: 2008-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:18:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ready?" Ronon asks, and Evan swears he can hear the challenging smirk in Ronon's voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Man's Bluff

"Ready?" Ronon asks, and Evan swears he can _hear_ the challenging smirk in Ronon's voice. He can half-picture the expression Ronon is probably wearing, a half-teasing, half-predatory look that spells disaster for Evan's pride. 

He swallows, resists the urge to adjust his blindfold. He is _so_ going to get his ass handed to him on a platter. Well, at least he convinced Ronon to have this be a closed session. No witnesses to add to the bruises his body and ego are about to receive. 

"Give me a second," Evan says and hears a sound suspiciously like a snort from the other man. "You know, Sheppard says you make up these 'traditional Satedan training exercises' as a private joke." 

"Does he?" Ronon's tone is bland. "Didn't realize he was an expert on Satedan warrior training." Before Evan can figure out a response to that and even start to theorize on whether or not Ronon took that as an insult, Ronon repeats, "Ready?" 

Evan hesitates for another second and then mentally shrugs. Might as well get his humiliation over with. "Sure," he says.

Two seconds later, he's flat on his back, gasping for air. Ronon must have momentarily taken off his blindfold, because he crouches next to Evan, tapping his boot with one finger. Evan can't help but think darkly on previous fantasies involving him and Ronon sparring much like this. Those fantasies hadn't included abject humiliation, thank you very fucking much. 

"If you want, I could just wear the blindfold," Ronon offers, amusement coloring his words. "One of those handicap things." 

Evan's tempted to tell him to go to hell, but he's unsure if Ronon will take it for the half-insult, half-joke it's intended to be. "I'll get the hang of it," he says instead, once he can actually breathe. "Eventually."

"Right," Ronon says, a grin in his voice, and then he pats Evan's shoulder, his hand's warmth bleeding through the thin T-shirt Evan's wearing. "Need help getting up?"

"No," Evan mutters, but Ronon helps anyway and he lets his token protest die. Ronon's touch is certain and surprisingly gentle, seeing how he just wiped the floor with Evan a minute ago. "Thanks." 

"No problem," Ronon tells him.

This time Evan can't figure out his tone. He's almost tempted to take off the blindfold, see if he can read Ronon's expression then, but he doesn't. Instead, he makes a show of rubbing the wrist Ronon grabbed to flip him onto his back and says, letting a rueful note flavor the question, "Make it two out of three?" 

Ronon laughs. The laughter comes from somewhere deep in his chest and rumbles out of his throat in a loud, clear sound. It's contagious; Evan feels the corners of his mouth twitch upward into a smile. The smile freezes on his face when hot, callused hands cup his jaw and linger, not quite a caress, but not an innocent touch by _any_ stretch of the imagination. 

"Best two out of three," Ronon agrees. 

This time, Evan thinks he understands the subtle undertone in Ronon's voice. He's even more grateful than before that this is a closed session, because otherwise he couldn't take off his blindfold and see the patient, cautious expression on Ronon's face. Nor could he reach up and touch the knuckles of Ronon's hands, or lean forward and learn that all of his fantasies didn't hold a candle to how Ronon's mouth really feels against his own.


End file.
